Then the other night he’d placed another memory on the shelf when he’d come to tuck in a grumpy, crying Sean, only to find Bellamy already there and singing a lullaby in French that had put the little hellion right to sleep.
It was too late to protect himself. He was deep in love and he knew it. Bellamy knew it too, though Seamus hadn’t said it again since their basement wrestling match.
Bellamy hadn’t said it at all.
It didn’t matter. He was coming back today. He’d escaped the madhouse and was voluntarily checking back in. That had to mean something.
The knock at the door stopped him on his way to the shower. He glanced over at the kids through the patio doors. They were all outside with Vini, enjoying their Saturday romp with the dog.
When he opened the door he frowned. “Why didn’t you just come in? You have keys.”
“Long day,” Solomon said simply as he headed into the living room and sat down heavily on the couch. “Can I have a drink?”
Something was wrong. “Sure. You want tea or water or—”
“Beer.”
Seamus turned toward the kitchen, got them both a bottle of his Irish Red and took a seat next to him, knowing he’d talk when he was ready.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately,” Solomon started at last. “And I wanted to thank you for helping Noah get ready. He got a call around four this morning letting him know she’d given birth.”
“What? Why didn’t he let the family know?”
Solomon shook his head. “I found out on my way over. That woman has a lot of conditions. She didn’t want to see all of us hovering. Thought it would be too hard on her. But Rory and I are heading over to help Noah pick him up and take him home as soon as the hospital says it’s okay.”
“It’s a boy? Do you need my help?”
“No. We’ve got this. Aunt Ellen is already planning a late baby shower for Noah, to give everyone a peek at baby Zachary.”
“Zachary Finn. Good name.”
As they sat there, Seamus could feel the tension coming off his cousin and hoped it wasn’t about him. “That’s one big cloud over your head, Younger. You know you can talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Was he still worried about Noah’s decision to keep the baby?
Solomon’s laugh was tired. “That’s a loaded question, Seamus. There are so many things, I’m not sure where to start.”
“Alphabetically, by order of importance… Wherever you need to.”
“Okay then. I’ve been in a constant state of pissed off for a few weeks now. I’m pissed that Officer Wayne is still insisting he isn’t coming back. He’s actually recertifying for his old job.”
“Old job?”
Solomon shook his head, bemused. “RN. I guess he and his older sister Bronte got their nursing degree at the same time, but then Hugo decided he wanted to be a police officer instead and joined the academy with James.”
“Is that all?” Seamus wasn’t sure why Solomon had been so upset about the Hugo situation, but it didn’t sound that bad now. Healing people was just as good a calling as protecting them. Like Rory, Hugo would be saving lives. And he wouldn’t have to carry a gun.
“Not even close,” Solomon said grimly. “I’m also pissed that Wyatt is being such a jackass to Noah, that James is still doing his MIA routine, and that Donna is showing up around the precinct, asking about him and acting suspicious.”
“Your mother? Holy shit.” James had reconnected with her recently, but Solomon hadn’t seen her since the divorce.
His cousin shook his head as if fed up with the entire situation. “Exactly. And to top it all off, Rory’s friend’s sister ran out of damn puppies before I could get one.”
“Damn.” Seamus took a healthy swig of his beer. “That is a shit-ton of pissed.”
“I wasn’t that pleased about you keeping your thing with Bellamy quiet either.” Solomon glanced at him quickly and then lowered his gaze to his bottle. “You should have come to me. I might have been able to commiserate.”
Seamus narrowed his eyes. Had Thoreau’s brother been right? “About anyone in particular?”
Solomon tightened his lips and pierced him with a look that told him not to dig. “Then again, I might not have helped you at all. I’ve recently been told that I’m so busy telling other people what they need to be doing that I don’t stop and think about how they feel or what they really want.”
“What’s going on with you, Younger? Are you okay?” Are you an LBMG?
Solomon ran his hand over his short hair and shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to be as bitter as Elder, Seamus. None of us do, but I think I might be the one walking that line. I’m in his chair and at his desk every day, working the job that passed to me when he retired. I love what I do, but not as much as I used to. And lately it seems like I can’t make a difference to the people that matter. I’m watching the things and people I care about slip out of my hands and there’s nothing I can do about it.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be the last single stick-in-the-mud of the family.”